


Bad Luck and Gay Parties

by SilenceAndLightning



Series: Drake's Tavern [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Fluff, M/M, Pride, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 02:00:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19263700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilenceAndLightning/pseuds/SilenceAndLightning
Summary: The adventures of our mysterious bartender continue with dazzling exploits like working in the rain and being a gay disaster in front of her crushes.





	1. Chapter 1

“Why are we doing this in the rain?” I mutter to myself. I didn’t want to be out here in the pouring rain, hanging up rainbow flags. I like Pride month, don’t get me wrong. It’s great. For one, I’m gay, and second, it meant a lot of the less-desirable regulars avoided us for a month because of bigotry.

Still, while I’m not arguing with the sentiment, I’m certainly not happy. Everyone else is inside and dry, but here I am, getting soaked to the bone. 

I know why. Drake doesn’t trust any of the other employee with power tools. Which actually raises a lot of questions about why he trusts them to do things like serve flaming drinks, or cook. If you can’t trust someone with a drill, can you really trust them with a stove?

I finish the last flag, shake the grumpiness out of my mind, and head inside, beelining for the bathroom. Of course I don’t have a change of clothes, but maybe I can wring some of the water out. Maybe enough to be presentable.

 

I don’t know why I ever expect things to go my way.

The minute I open the door,  _ she’s _ coming out of a stall. Hana Song. She’s back, and she’s in front of me, and I am an absolute mess. She doesn’t recognize me, and that’s probably for the best. 

My horrified self just slinks to the sink and starts trying to squeeze water out.

Hana washes her hands and leaves, and right before the door closes, I hear the words that make me strongly consider diving out the window and never coming back.

“Thanks for the help with Reinhardt.”

She recognized me. 

 

Well, on the bright side, the day can’t get worse from here.

Back in the bar, I take my place behind the counter. Of course it can get worse, because Hana is sitting right in front of me, with Brigitte.

I guess my advice worked.

Truth be told, I don’t know much about Brigitte. She’s a relatively recent addition to the team, and besides being  _ entirely  _ my type, there just isn’t much information out there, aside from a video of her whacking some guy silly with a shield.

I slide up to them and grab Brigitte’s mug, playing the gracious host and refilling it without her asking. Good way to get to eavesdrop.

They’re talking about the MEKA, and Hana’s spinning a tale about how it got damaged in a fight with some Bastion units. She gives me a wink that Brigitte doesn’t catch, and that I pretend not to catch.

 

I listen to tale in silence for a while, cleaning glasses to keep myself busy. She’s actually a pretty good story teller; good enough to make me question whether she spent time preparing this yarn. 

I’m so engrossed in it that it takes me a few moments to realize Hana is actually speaking to me.

“Hello?”

I snap out of it. “Yeah, sorry. What’s up?”

“I saw the flags. Do you have any Pride specials?”

“Uh, yeah. Some drinks. I recommend the rainbow shots.”

“Ooh. Let’s do that!”

I smile, but inwardly, I groan. They’re such a pain in the ass to make. You have to layer them very, very carefully, so that you end up with a big glass with layers of color. That gets their attention. 

 

Hana and Brigitte both watch me with awed intent, as if they’ve never seen someone mix drinks before.

I put a series of shot glasses on the counter and start pouring. You have to be careful here, too, or the colors mix in weird ways. When it’s done, there’s six shot glasses filled with a series of colors that slowly shifts down the spectrum from shot to shot.

“Enjoy.”

They each take an end and start slinging shots back, three each.

Both of them seem to love it. I guess, at the least, I can be happy I’m entertaining Overwatch people.

“So, uh, I was wondering,” Hana starts, “Do you ever rent out the entire bar?”

“What, like for private parties?” I shrug. “Drake’s done it a few times.”

“I wanna rent it.” Hana nods and whips out a credit card. 

“Okay, uh, lemme talk to Drake. When?”

“Whenever you have available, after three days or so.”

 

I head back and talk to Drake. As expected, he signs off on the idea pretty quick, and we set a date. I take the receipt back to Hana and scribble the date on the back so she won’t forget. “What are you renting it for, anyway?”

She stares at me like I’m the dumbest person she’s ever met. It hurts.

“Overwatch Pride party. Duh.”

  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Overwatch Pride party happens!

I love parties. Parties at the bar, anyway. I’m not much of a party person but I love serving them. Just watching. Enjoying by proxy.

One hell of a party.

I think all of Overwatch has turned out, and I’m so irritated I forgot my autograph book. Forgot to buy one, anyway.

 

Gabriel Reyes is in the corner with Jack Morrison. The captains. The leaders. They’ve got their heads together over a couple glasses of whiskey, having a chuckle about something. They keep shooting looks at Hana and Brigitte, like a couple of proud fathers. I guess relationships in Overwatch go deeper than I thought.

 

Reinhardt’s in the middle of the room with an entire throng around him, like satellites drawn to the orbit of the giant. The man sitting across from him is Jesse McCree. He’s one of the people I know the most about - a cowboy, a neo-cowboy. He’s as famous for his Overwatch exploits as he is for his gunslinging tricks.

The two of them are going head to head, downing beer after beer. McCree can’t possibly have a chance, but so far, he’s keeping up. Hanzo Shimada is slapping McCree’s back after every drink, encouraging him in-between passing a bottle of sake between himself and Genji Shimada.

 

My survey of the room gets interrupted when Sombra steps up to the bar. “Two screwdrivers, _vato_.” The woman at her side - Satya Vaswani - protests, but she goes quiet once I serve the drinks. I get the sense she’s protesting for the sake of protesting than anything else, judging by the secretive smile she has when Sombra isn’t looking.

 

McCree and Reinhardt are starting to run out of beer. I start to pour more, and then I stop as the door opens.

I know who Amélie Lacroix is. Anyone who cares the slightest about Overwatch knows. She’s one of the greatest markswomen the world has ever seen, but I’ve never seen her in person, and I’ve never seen a dress like that.

It looks like it’s made of liquid spider webs, flowing across her body. A shimmering, opaque gray that somehow covers everything and reveals everything at the same time. 

By the time she reaches the bar I’ve managed to wipe most of my drool away. “Your best red wine, please.”

By the time she’s finished ordering I’m drooling again. That accent, the look in her eyes, the painted lips.

I fill the glass and serve it silently, mentally cursing Drake for not having any fancier glasses. She deserves crystal. 

“I expected you to be more talkative, given Hana’s impression of you.”

“You, uh, you did?” I stammer, reaching for a glass to clean just to try to distract myself. Why am I so tongue-tied?

“She speaks highly of you. She says you are the reason she is with Brigitte.” Amélie cocks her head like an owl, staring at me in the sort of way you stare at someone who’s just kicked a puppy. Somehow, that curious, lethal glare seems comforting from her, though. Like it’s her normal expression and I can just tell, instinctively, that her looking at me any other way would be a death sentence.

“You are avoiding looking at me. Why?”

“Uh, no reason. Need a refill?”

A pale blue hand covers the glass, and she actually smiles. Sort of. It’s the smile of a predator tracking prey, but, you know, it’s something resembling a happy look, so I’ve got that going for me, which is nice. “She is right. You are adorable.”

“Uh.” I stare at her. 

She stuffs a bill into the tip jar and leaves to join the audience for the drinking contest. As I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts, I notice a weird color in the tip jar. It’s on the bill she left. It looks like...numbers? I slip it out and smooth the bill on the bar. A phone number. Her phone number? Amélie’s phone number?

 

The money gets stuffed into my pocket. I’ll worry about it later. Right now I’ve got rainbow shots to prepare, not that it’s easy with the thought that keeps going through my head. Why? She doesn’t even know me, aside from what Hana knows, which also is a grand total of nothing.

I guess you don’t get to be part of Overwatch if you can’t judge people well, though, and it’s not like I have any one else in my life. Maybe I’ll call her. 

 

Maybe I won’t, because she’s waving me over.

My heart hammers in my chest as I sit beside her, convinced this is one of the poorest decisions I’ve ever made.

Her arm snakes around my waist and she whispers, telling me of the story behind the drinking contest, how it’s yet another in a series between these two. It’s so mundane, and I’m ever more convinced this is the poorest decision I’ve ever made, but I can’t deny that I’m actually enjoying this. I’m actually enjoying being part of the party for once.

 


End file.
